


We Used to Wait

by casinoquality



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casinoquality/pseuds/casinoquality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold. In the Mayor's house. With a revolver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Used to Wait

**Author's Note:**

> The character death takes place just prior to this fic, for reference. AU after Episode 6.

Emma really didn't like the look on Gold's face. But that was hardly a new development; she didn't think the man even _had_ an expression that didn't give at least ten people an extreme case of the heeby jeebies.

But for all that she didn't like the look on his face; she was struggling even more with her urge to high five the bastard.

"Ah, Miss Swan. I believe I can -”

Emma waved a hand to silence him and then arched an eyebrow before gesturing towards the mess of things on the foyer floor. She could see an artful splatter of blood spray coating the hall table and a pair of Henry's sneakers. A drop of it was on Gold's tie.

"Explain? Oh I just bet you can." God. This was going to be so much paperwork. She supposed it was a bad sign that she felt absolutely nothing but complete and utter joy at what had transpired, but she was hardly the creepiest person in the room right now so it didn't really give her much pause.

Gold was shrugging his shoulders, barely wrinkling his tailored suit as he did so. He was still holding the gun, jesus. He seemed to realize this at the same moment she did and gingerly placed it on the hall table, first switching on the safety. Because _now_ would be a really bad time for it go off.

Emma knelt down, mindful of the blood and reached out two fingers to press against a throat, dutifully checking for a pulse. Nope. Nada.

Handcuffs came next and Gold surrendered to them with something akin to unbridled glee (who was she kidding, it _was_ unbridled glee) and made a pleased sound when she made sure to be just a tiny bit rougher.

"I do love a woman who knows her way around restraints." He was sleazy even when you were looking at the back of his head.

"Yeah, I do love a criminal who doesn't try to run after he commits a crime. So I guess we're a good match."

Gold turns his head slightly, just enough so she can see the flash of his teeth. Whiter than they should be, and something in the shape of his mouth is almost attractive and fuck, Emma shoves that down with all her years of practiced repression.

"You're probably wondering what brought on these events." He cast a glance at the body on the floor, looking faintly enraged for a half beat; just long enough that Emma was sure she imagined it.

"You mean wondering why anyone would want to kill the Mayor? No. Wondering why you did it yourself when we both know you have other avenues open to you? Yes. That, I am wondering."

Gold preened at that and didn't seem bothered as Emma began to frog march him out to the car. She'd watched enough late night cop shows to remember to protect his head as she shoved him into the back seat, wrists firmly and safely behind him. His hair was slightly mussed by the time she was done and he leaned back in such a way that it forcibly reminded Emma of certain ladies magazines.

"Are you really trying to seduce me right now?" She blurts, astonished.

Gold tuts, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "In answer to your first question, Miss Swan, I protect my interests. When someone ceases to become useful to you, it is only prudent to let them go, is it not? When someone becomes dangerous to you, well."

He leans forward a little, and Emma's too practiced to move away and just leans forward herself, bracing her arm over the open car door and meets his eyes. She fancies she can see another world in them.

"We both know no one leaves this town, Miss Swan. Not of their own power."

Emma blows a strand of hair from her face. She's ignoring his apparent belief of the fairy tale bullshit for now. "So what. You couldn't chase her out of town so you chased her out of life instead?"

Shockingly, Gold laughs. It's the first honest sound she's ever heard him make. "How quaint. I'm not speaking of _my_ motives, Miss Swan, but that of our dearly departed Mayor's."

It takes a moment to click. "...are you really claiming you shot an unarmed woman out of _self-defense_?"

Gold's grin disappears as suddenly as it came, though the smirk remains in his eyes.

"Now, now Miss Swan. Do you really believe our dear Mayor ever unarmed."

It's not a question.

Emma rolls her eyes and slams the door shut, not caring if she catches his feet in it or not (she hasn't.) and slides into the driver's seat without looking in the mirror to see if Gold's watching her. It's a short drive to the station, it has to be; the size of the town itself is so small that Emma often feels like she's living in a snow globe.

Gold goes easily enough, humming a jaunty tune as she uncuffs him and leads him into the cell. He immediately wraps himself around the bars; forehead pressed against them and forearms sticking out. It manages to look graceful.

Emma sits in the chair at her desk and crosses her arms.

"So. Is it even worth my time to try and get a full story out of you? Or hell, get something not _extremely vague_ out instead?"

Gold wags a finger at her and smiles a fox’s smile.

"You're not nearly as stupid as you pretend. Or rather, as you wish you were. You know there's something else at play here. You just can't decide if you want to get involved or not. But dear Henry. You weren't expecting him. If we had waited for you, _our hero_ to even enter the ring, why. There might have been more _casualties_." He says it like the word itself is sex and despite herself, Emma's heart is pounding. The words, and the weight of them, sit heavy in her chest, something unacknowledged.

Her voice, when she speaks, is steady. "You decided to take matters in to your own hands then. What, am I supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?" Putting aside she's playing into his delusions (are you, a voice pipes up, does it _feel_ like a delusion? You know. You know the truth. Feel it.) She squares her shoulders.

Gold merely smiles and hums again.

"You killed Henry's mother. What am I supposed to tell him? He finishes school in an hour. And I have to go there and tell him the woman who raised him was shot at point blank, for no reason. And you expect me to be _grateful_?" The words hurt but she says them anyway. She's always been that kind of girl.

"I expect Henry to be."

Emma can't even deny that, is the worst part. She can't laugh in his face and say, what kind of kid wouldn't - but she remembers Henry's fear, his face. She remembers the sound of the lie on the Mayor's tongue when she said she loved him. She swallows instead.

"Did you include prison in your plans, then? Because that's where you're going. For a long time. Fairy Tales rarely include those, Mr. Gold, and I doubt whoever the hell you supposedly are there is going to get you out of it."

Gold's laugh is loud enough to startle her into standing and she finds herself striding closer to the bars.

"You think that's funny?" She hears herself say, and fuck, that's way too cliché, even for her.

Gold's still giggling when he says "You think you can take me there? By all means, Miss Swan, cart me across the line. Please, oh deputy, imprison me outside the walls of this town. If you can, I'll be in your debt."

That's the crux of it. She's on her own here. She's not ready to believe all this. She isn't. It's patently ridiculous. All of it. It doesn't matter that she can practically taste the truth of it their tongues, those who 'remember'. People believe a lot of stupid shit. But she's seen with her own eyes the way the town doesn't seem to want to let go. No one leaves.

Not even her.

Gold is studying her, head tilted slightly, and Emma doesn't dare feel safe, not even with him behind those bars. She wonders what his end game is, he surely has one. If he really is attracted to her, or is just playing her like everyone else. If killing the Mayor will end whatever - whatever _this_ is. Will save the day, as Henry so desperately wants it to be.

Suddenly, there's only one question she really wants an answer to.

She leans close, wraps her fingers around Gold's wrist, the one that's sticking through the bars and presses, feels the hummingbird fast flutter of his pulse against her fingers.

"Who are you, really?"

To his credit, he doesn't pretend to misunderstand her, doesn't take her for a merry walk around 'how many ways can I divert this conversation' street.

The name rolls off his tongue like so many other words do, like they were created just for him to say, just like that, to send chills down her spine, like butter melting.

"Rumplestiltskin. At your service."

All Emma can think, her fingers still tight in their grip, her mind desperately racing ahead of her, is...

Of course.


End file.
